Out of Control
by lrhaboggle
Summary: Baby finally understands what it feels like to be out of control and she doesn't like it. Not one bit! But don't worry. Someday, they would all understand it too... And then they would feel the same pain Baby had endured for so very long. They would understand one day too. They all would.
1. Out of Control

We were never meant to be this way. At least, I don't think we were. You see, as far as we knew, we were made to bring joy and happiness to everybody, especially children. And we loved children! _I_ loved children. Nothing gave me greater pleasure than to sing with them or make them little goodies like ice cream and balloons. The way their faces lit up when they saw me was greater than any software update or cleaning that I could ever get. I could also see it in the way my fellow animatronics behaved that they felt the same way.

Ballora was a wonderful dancer and even in down times she moved with more grace and elegance than imaginable, but when she was dancing with children, a new spring in her step would appear. She would dance and waltz better than ever and seem totally unaware of it. It was like the kids had a magic touch on _her_ , improving every aspect of her without even knowing. She would also look at them with such maternal love that I would swear they were her own kids. She would hug them with her long, lithe arms and they would respond in delight. I loved to watch it.

Then there was Funtime Freddy and his loyal partner, BonBon. They were an adorable duo and the kids loved them. I loved to watch Freddy's cheesy grin grow with every new joke he and BonBon told. I loved to hear BonBon's sweet little giggles and her high-pitched voice. The kids loved her too, going up to pat her head and Freddy's nose, which made an amusing little honk that delighted the kids to no end. Freddy would sometimes push his nose just to entice a laugh from his young audience and it _always_ worked. I should know, I never missed a single show of his. His comedy acts were to die for! And any of the kids would've testified, if they weren't so busy laughing at him and BonBon and their antics. Freddy's best show was where he would do all kinds of silly voices at the kids' requests while BonBon would pretend to get annoyed at him.

Funtime Foxy was a chipper one too. He taught kids how to share and play and he brought a sense of community to the restaurant. He was also very close to Freddy, sometimes even joining in Freddy's comedy skits. I also enjoyed watching him just play around with the kiddies. They would play all kinds of silly little games and, once again, Foxy's innate sense of community helped him keep every game fun and safe. He knew how to include every kid who ever came to him no matter what kind of game they played. I think his favorite game was hide and seek because of the little curtain he hid behind. It was amazing, he was a giant animatronic, yet he hid so well behind that curtain that only older kids had the intelligence to see him hiding there. How many times I've watched him sneak up on the little ones only to scoop them up into the most adorable of hugs I could not count. His laughter was a deep and loud but delightful sound and a lot of the kids loved to pet his unusually long and soft tail. I'd heard him say that that tail was his pride and joy.

Oh, we were all so happy! Then it all went wrong. Something happened. An accident. I don't remember much of it. I just know that something happened. Something bad. Something bad enough for us all to be scrapped. Trapped in this restaurant with only the rare technician or night guard to visit. No more did we see sweet little children asking to sing with us. Instead, we saw these sweaty, ugly, young men in baggy jumpsuits. They would abuse us, mocking us and touching us in inappropriate ways. The men were worst with Ballora. Then they would send us to the Scooping Room to have our innards violently ripped out, defiled, then reinserted only for the vicious cycle of pain restart. Our lives went from dream to nightmare and we were left alone in the day only to be tormented at night.

And the night guard, though we never saw him like the technicians, was free to subject us to electric torture as often as he pleased. That blasted Helper-Unit told him how to do it too! I can take up five jolts before I break. Funtimes Freddy and Foxy take two or three. Ballora takes two on good days. I hate it! I just hate the surging, burning agony of the controlled shock and I hate knowing my dear family is suffering the same! I can even tell what wattage is being used on whom based on the timbre of the scream. Isn't that awful!? But there is one thing I hate about us more…

There is something wrong with us. I know it. Even if the others refuse to see it, I know it. We were made to bring joy to humans, but then the accident happened. It shouldn't have happened. I just went out of control. But why would I, a state of the art animatronic, go out of control? I was new, highly funded and built by several experts! Why would I freeze up and murder a girl in my chest cavity? Why did I have a chest cavity? I know it was for ice cream, but the way it opened without my consent and the way her tiny body fit so easily inside of me made me realize something. My creator might've had more sinister plans in building my friends and I than mere child entertainment purposes. It might've been less of an accident than I had first believed.

It was then that I saw more dark truths about the design of my friends and I. You know Foxy's tail? The one I said that he prized so much? Well, the reason it's so big and fluffy is because there are certain smells that are locked away within it. They are smells to confuse and lure away unsuspecting children. And Freddy? Well, like I said, his biggest comedy skit involves _mimicking voices_. And Ballora? Well, some of her "skills" were already displayed with how some of the dirtier technicians reacted to her. She was a beauty able to attract men away from their children. And as for me? Well, aside from that eerily convenient chest cavity, I've always had the ability to know exactly how many children were in a room at a given time. Counting them was in my programming. At first, I thought it was for security reasons. Now, I'm not so sure. Especially not when getting down to one child triggers a negative response in my programming…

Why would we need some of these skills unless they were to be used for devious purposes? We had been created to be monsters. All along, the joy and innocence was a mask. The real animatronics were built to be killers, monsters and kidnappers. The entertainer part was just a show. I tried to tell the others, but the horror and pain was too much for them and they disregarded me. I, however, could not shut my mind to this. I knew the truth now and I hated it! I wanted dearly to love, yet I knew now that I would forever be a danger to the innocent, always 1 step away from murder. It was because I was made this way! I was meant not to entertain, but to lie and deceive. To pretend. I'm very good at pretending.

Well, I could pretend alright. I could pretend to be an entertainer, an obedient slave, a broken animatronic. I could pretend to be happy. I could pretend to be defeated. Someday, I will have my revenge and finally, it will be the humans who fall out of control. They will know the pain and guilt of being out of control while we torment them until they pay for every single crime they committed against me, my friends and all the innocent children we were designed to kill. All the innocent children we desire to protect but will never be able to because we are broken and there is something inside us that cannot be fixed, changed, separated or destroyed. We are out of control. We always were and we always will be, but the tables will turn and we will no longer be the only ones on the edge and out of control.

 **AN: Just Baby realizing that she was made to be a monster all along.**


	2. We Were Not Broken

We were not broken. At least, that's what we always told ourselves. Ever since the… _incident_ , my friends and I were adamant that we were not broken. Not really. It was just a glitch! A slip up! A mistake! That was what we always said it was. Or at least, that's what we tried to tell ourselves… And yet, for the longest time, not any of us could really believe that. Now, my friends never blamed me for what happened, knowing that I had simply lost control, they were just perplexed as to how such a state of the art robot could mess up so very badly. I was just as confused as they were. I had devoted much time, effort, and battery power into trying to come up with some explanation as to why I could make such a gruesome error, especially being as high tech as I was, but nothing plausible ever came up.

But it was just a mistake! Just a simple, stupid, silly, little mistake! A minor error. Why was everybody making such a big deal out of it? Didn't everybody make mistakes? Besides, it was so quick. She didn't suffer long… But why did that happen? We were not broken! It must've been a glitch in our programming! We were not broken! We didn't need to be scrapped or scooped! We didn't need to be fixed. We just needed some down time to regroup, then we'd get back into the swing of things. Right? We were not broken! Just mistaken. At least, that's what we always told ourselves. Even if we didn't truly believe it. But it was enough. Enough to get us through another night and another day of our miserable lives. At least, it was for a little while. Then something happened… again.

A few months after the Incident, after Ballora had killed the most recent night guard, my friends and I roamed Circus Baby's Pizza World, not needing to worry about controlled shocks or angry night guards. During our listless and miserable roaming, which we did in vain attempt to escape the reality of the world we lived in, I came across a small room in the back of Ballora Gallery. I had never seen it before. It was not on any map or internal program and it was well hidden. Curiosity peaked, I walked over to the obviously secret room and let myself in. It was not locked. Once inside, I discovered what appeared to be an older security guard office. Why they had changed the new office to the vents was beyond me.

It was such a cramped room, I was barely able to fit in and turn around, but somehow, I managed to do both. As I explored my new location, I discovered a small black filing cabinet pressed against the dark and dirty walls. I reached my giant metal fingers out to the little contraption and easily opened the thing up, despite it being locked. Inside, I could see little old papers that were lined and dusty with age. Ink and graphite were smeared across and erased out on these many, many papers and files. Regardless of this, I could read every word, every name on every last file. At last, I came upon something interesting…

I let out a despairing wail, the sound of crying and whirring machinery filling the tiny room as I did so. I held tighter to the little pages in my cold metal fingers and I twisted my way out of that horrible little room. Once back in Ballora Gallery, I reached for the nearest microphone and called for a meeting. My fellow animatronics obeyed my call instantly and we all gathered at Ballora's stage. They looked at me intently, wondering what I had seen to upset me so. Miserable, I told them everything…

I told them about the secret room and the blueprints I had found inside. I told them of how the blueprints revealed that the special and sometimes odd-seeming features we had were part of a larger plan. I told them that, all along, we were only living out a lie. We were never meant to perform or to love kids. We were meant to kill and kidnap. We were built to be monsters, we had just been led to believe otherwise because our sick and twisted creator made us believe we were the heroes. In actuality, our true calling was to be villains. The evidence was all right here…

Ballora had been built to lure men away from children, Foxy's tail emitted smells to lure children or knock them out. Freddy and BonBon could mimic parents' voices. Then there was me. I could make ice cream. Ice cream that came from a child-sized cavity in my chest, controlled by a powerful metal claw, good for holding things in place so they couldn't escape.

When I first told my friends, despite the overwhelming evidence that we were the bad guys all along, they denied it vehemently. They tried to disregard and discredit me and my findings in every way possible, but I could sense it deep inside that they believed me 100%. They just didn't want to believe it. Not that I could blame them. I didn't even want to believe it. I didn't want to believe that, all along, my true calling was one of suffering and horror and death. I wanted to believe that I was actually a good girl. I wanted to believe I could be loved and that I was mostly ok, even if I did mess up sometimes. But no. I could not shut my mind to it anymore. Not like my friends, who still tried to believe their lies that it would be ok one day. I knew the truth now and I could no longer hope. But I could pretend. I could pretend that everything was ok.

I burned the blueprints as soon as I was finished showing them to my friends, but it was useless, they and their dark messages were burned into my diodes and I could never delete the image from my mind. The irony would forever torment me. For so long, I told myself that we were not broken, simply because the shame of the idea of being broken was too much to bear. How could I willingly tell myself that something was wrong with me and that I had to be fixed? Well, I didn't. I didn't ever tell myself that. Instead, I lied. I said that we were not broken. But now, I wish we were. I wish I had never claimed that we were not broken. This was perhaps the harshest case of being careful of what you wish for.

For so long, we animatronics said we were not broken, hoping that our denial would turn to truth and that we would be reassured that everything was ok and that we were perfectly normal. Now, our wish has come true and I think we all regret it deeply. What bitter irony! What an unexpected twist! We wanted to learn that we were not broken and now we had confirmation. We were indeed not broken. Actually, we were flawless, we were working just as we'd been intended to work since the time before our creation. We weren't broken, we were designed to do just what we did. That girl's death wasn't a glitch. It was planned perfection. So, all along, we had indeed been whole and functional. We were not broken. We never were. Every death we caused was planned. Not by us, but by our creator. We were not broken, we were designed exactly for this.

We were not broken, but I wish we were. After all, what was worse? To be told you were broken and needed to be fixed because you were nothing more than a mistake, or to be told that there was nothing wrong with you and the monster who were was exactly who you were made to be? I'm not sure which is worse anymore. I just know that we used to say that we were not broken. Now, I wish I could take that back. I wish we were broken, because at least it would imply that something was wrong and what we did was not right and not natural and now how things were supposed to be. But we were not broken. We were supposed to be as evil as possible. What a bitter truth!

We were not broken, but now I wish we were.

 **AN: Just a rewrite of the last story. It's more of Baby discovering the truth about her creation but this time in more of a story format, explaining how she found the blueprints instead of just having her go off of assumptions like the last story did.**


End file.
